Dust Devils
by Mikkeneko
Summary: Written for the 2012 KuroFai 'Harlequin' challenge. Fai is working in a rundown bar in a tiny town in Kansas when the infamous outlaw Kurogane sweeps into town - and Fai's life will never be the same.


**Title**: Dust Devils  
**Pairing**: Kuro/Fai (of course!)  
**Rating**: R  
**Disclaimer**: I have never actually been to Kansas. There is a town by the name of Devil's River, but it is in Texas, not Kansas; and it's actually a perfectly nice little town full of friendly people. I just liked the name.

**Harlequin Prompt**: **11; Renegade Most Wanted**

"WANTED: A HUSBAND BEFORE THE DAY IS OUT. MUST HAVE A WICKED STREAK AND THE FASTEST TRIGGER IN THE WEST!

Sitting in the finest second-hand wedding dress she can find, Emma Parker watches the clock tick down. She needs the most willing cowboy in town to become her husband before the sun sets – or she'll lose her first ever real home. Then Matthew 'Singing Trigger' Suede saunters in, and his cover as the Robin Hood of the West is almost blown as he escapes from a bank. So Emma offers the renegade an alibi to save him from the noose… if only he'll escort her down the aisle – immediately!"

Obviously, I made a few changes...

* * *

The sun beat into Kurogane's eyes as he rode into the town of Devil's River, Kansas. It was late enough in the season that the shivering prairie grass had long since burned brown, falling in endless waves over the rolling land. The wind stripped dust from the road and rolled it out over the prairie, in whirls and dust devils that masked the horizon in an undulating haze.

Sheds had been popping up like gopher mounds along either side of the road for miles, but only now did the blocky lines of the town itself thrust their way over the horizon. They were a dark, jagged collection of right-angles perched on the edge of a dip in the land, the river for which the town had been named.

It wasn't much of a river; in wetter parts of the country, it wouldn't even have earned the name of a creek. It was a gully that washed north to south, meandering this way and that over the nearly-flat plain in a forlorn hope for some outlet. During a drought season the wash would be completely dry, only the engraved plate on the shallow wooden bridge where the road crossed it marking it as a river at all.

Ahead of him and to his right, a dark smudge along the horizon proclaimed the presence of an incoming train, the black metal steam engine dragging a dozen hollow cars along behind it. The railroad and the river between them were the only reason that the town of Devil's River even existed, for there was little other reason to come out two hundred miles into the middle of Kansas just for the scenery.

The railroads stretched from the great cities and well-tamed lands back East towards the great wilderness of the West, slicing across the land till all dead-ended in the ocean in faraway California; but between the safety of civilization behind and the lure of adventure and riches in the way, the immense rolling miles of the Great Plains were little more than the space in the way.

Still, even a train couldn't cross the whole distance without stopping, and so these little station towns had sprung up along the railway like mushrooms following a rainstorm. The river crossing made a natural stopping point, and the breath of moisture in this dry land even allowed for the growth of a dark cool green stand of trees along the bank. After hours of riding under the summer sun, Kurogane was more than glad of the prospect of cool shade ahead. His horse, tired and overheated, felt the same.

The first real buildings began to rear up on either side of him, cutting off the blaze of the sun behind their square false fronts, one-story buildings trying to pretend to an extra grandeur they didn't possess. The wooden beams peeled and cracked in the heat, wide cracks showing between heat and age-shrunken boards; ramshackle structures that were only ever intended to be temporary, now long outlived the intentions of their builders and sometimes, the builders too.

Further on towards the river the town grew nicer; true two-story buildings with tight strong seams and fine coats of paint. All the comforts of civilization, the railway station and the bank and the post-office and the deputy's office which doubled as the county jailhouse... Kurogane nudged his horse the other way, towards the cheaper and more run-down parts of the town. He passed a saloon, a feed store, a scarred and stained rodeo ground now standing empty, and the half-dismantled remains of a wind-powered mill before finally finding what he was looking for.

A hotel. Not the only one in this town, which catered to the pass-through railroad crowd; no doubt there were several closer to the station, pricier and cleaner and much more closely watched. Under the circumstances, Kurogane thought, a place which was a little quieter and more out of the way would do just fine.

Since he fully intended to stay the night, Kurogane led his horse past the hitching-post right towards the stables at the back of the building. A stablehand who had been lounging on a trio of haybales scrambled up at Kurogane's approach, clearly startled to have a customer appear out of nowhere like this; but Kurogane waved the youth away as he swung his leather-clad leg over the side of the saddle and slid to the ground. He much preferred to take care of his own horses, something he had long practice in doing. "Which stall's open?" was all he asked.

As he led Silver to the indicated stall and began pulling off her tack, Kurogane cast a critical eye over the other horses stabled there. Some of them looked like long-term residents; bulky, heavy-legged blow horses with marks left on their chest and shoulders showing life-long adaptation to the plow. But there were a few that were fresher, lighter on their feet and different enough in shape and color from their farmbred cousins to show that they weren't from around here.

None of them particularly fancy, not that he'd expected to find any thoroughbred showhorses in a place like this - but while breeders and jockeys back East might demand pedigree and papers before even considering purchasing a horse, frontiersmen tended to be a little less discerning. Men heading to California to seek their fortunes, or families loading up all their hopes and futures in a wagon, tended to be a little more interested in form over function - and a lot less interested in where and exactly _how _their beasts had been acquired.

Which allowed men like Kurogane to make a fine living in this windswept land.

Once his horse was settled, Kurogane sauntered around to the entrance of the hotel. He glanced up at the sign over the door - the owner had a weird sense of humor, if he thought it was a good idea to name his hotel The Cat's Pyjamas - before he pulled the door open and let himself in. The mosquito-netting rattled in the doorframe behind him.

It took a moment for Kurogane to adapt to the darkness inside, but at least it was cooler than the sun-baked street outside. As his eyes adjusted he made out the lay of the room: a few sets of tables and chairs, a long bar along the back side of the room and a few doors that led to rooms beyond. Along one side of the room a steep wooden staircase led up to the second floor, presumably to the promised hotel room.

A few men were seated at the tables when he came in, as dark-clad and dusty as himself; they glanced up when he came in, their gazes closed and calculating, but apparently whatever they saw there wasn't enough to inspire suspicion, because they soon went back to their own business. Kurogane was just as glad. There were places back East where his coloring and eyes would be enough to draw stares and sneers - at best - but this far out on the frontier, features like his were no uncommon sight.

Kurogane was half-Indian, his mother a Lakota Sioux and his father a French trapper who spent his life hunting up and down the river until he'd finally fallen in love and married. Kurogane had spent his childhood in his mother's village, his only contact with the outside world being the infrequent trips he took with his father to the nearest trading post. He'd been at home on the prairie, loving his life and never seeking another - until, when he'd been twelve, the U.S. army had come to tell the village chief that this was American Government land now, with railroad surveyors coming out the next week, and they could either move or be moved.

The village chief had told them, in a French-English patois, just where he could stick his railroad.

They'd been moved. There hadn't been much left afterwards.

Kurogane had gotten out of Dakota territory with only his gun, his horse, and a burning desire to hurt the Americans as much as they had hurt his family.

That desire had cooled over the years, though. Somewhat. _He who plots revenge must dig two graves, _his father had once told him, and he had lived long enough by now to see that it was true.

Today, though, he only wanted a square meal and a place to sleep for the night, so he made his way over to the smooth-polished bar and creaked onto one of the stools. A short, balding man with a notebook looked up from his desk underneath the narrow staircase, and nodded at him. "You here for lunch?" he asked.

"Yeah," Kurogane replied. "Whatever's fresh, and a room for the night."

The man nodded again, glancing down at his notebook, and raised his voice through the doors to the back. "Get us a serving of corned beef on rye and bean stew," he called out to what was presumably, the kitchen. He closed his notebook with a snap and stood up. "I'll get the key for room thirteen. You got a horse?"

"Already stabled," Kurogane assured him, and the man gave another nod before disappearing.

A minute later, another man came out from the back juggling a bowl and two plates. "Just a minute, sir, and I'll get you something to drink - d'you want tea or beer? We've got -" He set the dishes on the bar before Kurogane with a heavy thunk, and looked directly up into his face.

The eyes that met his were the color of the sky, a brilliant blue that seemed to glow with their own light, framed by wisps of pale-gold hair the color of the summer grass outside. The face that went with those eyes was as pretty as a girl's, with fine-boned cheeks, a small nose and delicate jawline, but the body beneath them was anything but. How he kept so fair in this sun-blown land Kurogane had no idea, but the milky skin that disappeared beneath the ratty, sweat-stained collar invited running one's hands and fingers over them just to see if it was really as soft as it looked.

For a moment Kurogane was frozen in his seat, as a bolt of recognition slammed into him at the same time as the realization that Fai was just as fucking beautiful as he had been eight years ago.

Those sky-blue eyes widened and seemed to blaze, the lips tightened in fury as Fai drew in an incensed breath, and for a moment Kurogane was sure that he was going to fling the bowl of hot bean soup directly in Kurogane's face. "_You,_" he spat, the word containing a world of loathing. "You've got a lot of nerve coming in here, after what you pulled!"

Kurogane jerked himself out of his paralysis, leaning back and away as if to get out of range of that flensing stare. "Didn't expect to see you out west," he said, his voice somehow calm despite the storm of emotions raging through him. After a moment's pause he added, deliberately callous, "Slumming it, are you?"

Fine lips drew back from pearly teeth, as Fai's hands went white-knuckled around the edges of the ceramic plate. "And what else was I supposed to do in Wisconsin, after no one for three states around would hire me?" he snarled. "After the debt-collectors took every penny I had, and came after the shirt on my back as well?"

"Beats me," Kurogane said with a feigned indifference. He reached for his lunch, tearing off a corner and shoving it into his mouth. It gave him something to do with his hands, something to look at that wasn't Fai's face. He swallowed part of his mouthful and said, through the rest, "Glad you're OK, though."

Kurogane looked at the dark-beamed ceiling, at the running stains of resin on the walls, at anything instead of at Fai's face.

"_Glad_!" Fai snarled. "You're _glad _to see me working as a barmaid in a broken-down cheap hotel three hundred miles from anywhere, scraping pennies off the railroad tracks to get by, yes, I suppose you could say I'm doing okay. Nothing nearly so grand as when you first met me, so you might as well clear yourself off, because I've got nothing else worth stealing!"

Fai's voice had risen over the course of his tirade, and Kurogane glanced around and saw the other patrons of the lunchroom were staring at this confrontation with great interest. He winced when Fai flung the word 'stealing' at his head like a plate in a fight, and decided it was time to clear the room before too many of the wrong people took interest in his and Fai's past.

It didn't help that, as much as he wished it weren't, every word that Fai flung at him was true.

"Thanks for the hospitality, but I'll spend the night elsewhere," Kurogane said in a cool voice, and unfolded himself from the counter. He hesitated a moment, captivated by those blazing blue eyes. "Look, Fai," he said uncomfortably. "I'm sorry about Wisconsin. I never meant for you to -"

"Get out!" Fai spat at him. "Get out, and don't come near me again!"

Kurogane sighed, and reached into his back pocket. He folded a bill in his hands and tucked it into the tip jar by the counter; it was a five-dollar bill, ten times what the meal he hadn't eaten was worth. "Get yourself a new shirt, Fai," he said quietly, and left.

He was back out in the sunshine and ten steps down the road when he heard Fai's voice calling out from behind him. "Hey, High Horse! You left something!" He glanced over his shoulder, saw his ex-lover standing there with his hair blazing out like a furious halo from his head and one arm drawn back.

Not for nothing was Kurogane known as the fastest draw in Dakota territory; he had the reflexes of a cobra, and they saved his life as Fai pegged the tip jar with deadly accuracy at his head.

He ducked and rolled, and the heavy glass vessel shot through the space his head had been and shattered on the hitching-post behind him. Kurogane flinched and ducked as a hail of glass shards and hard metal coins railed around him. He jerked his eyes up towards Fai to see what else would follow the jar, only to see the blond man whirl around and stalk back into the hotel.

Oh, yes. _Now _Kurogane remembered - Fai had been the star of his sharpshooting club in the woods of Wisconsin.

His legs gave out under him, and Kurogane slumped to the road and leaned his shoulders against the hitching post. His eyes stared across the windswept and lonely expanse of the prairie as he remembered the day when he and Fai had first met.

* * *

It had begun in September, just as the leaves were beginning to turn in Wisconsin. The tree-coated hills became an ocean of red-edged orange and gold, but no autumn leaves were as beautiful to Fai as Kurogane.

He'd been working at the time as a stablehand for old man Ascot's horse farms. Ascot owned all the lands around for a hundred acres, and like any other farmers of the day he grew a wide mixture of crops: corn, potatoes, beans. But the heart and soul of Ascot's farms were his horses, the equestrian breeding programs that turned out dozens of fine horses in a year. Buggies as far away as New York City and Philadelphia were pulled by Ascot's perfectly matched and trained teams, and every year he put out a new contender at the Scarborough Downs racing track. A pair of Ascot's horses were worth over two hundred and fifty dollars, enough to pay a man's way for a year.

Fai had always loved horses, from the time that he and his twin had been urchins in the streets of Chicago up until he was grown, having just graduated from school thanks to an unexpected inheritance from a rich uncle. The legacy hadn't been enough to start his own business but it had been enough to keep him in school, to let him meet Ascot's younger son and strike up a friendship, and later be offered a job at his father's horse ranch out by Union City. Hardly able to believe his own luck, Fai had accepted.

Those years in Wisconsin had been like a dream come true, finally able to live comfortably and work in the one job he had wished for all his life: surrounded by strong, beautiful horses. He'd had friends for the first time in his life, getting along well with the other farmhands and the farmer's sons; the group of like-minded young men found no end of pleasant ways to occupy their spare time, what little of it they had in the unending cycle of farm work.

And just when it had seemed like life could get no better, Kurogane had appeared.

He'd stirred a mild scandal in town when he'd first arrived, the wild man from out West, half-heathen and half-savage. The older men frowned and shook their heads, the older ladies tsk'd and hid behind their sleeves, and drew their children away from him in the street. The younger generation felt no such reserve; the young men were wildly curious to try their skills against him, and the young ladies of town swooned over his mystery and his rugged good looks.

So did Fai.

He'd been caught from the moment he laid eyes on Kurogane: that smooth tanned skin, the fascinating foreign shape of his eyes, the sharp cheekbones and jawline of his face and the well-defined muscles of his torso. Fai had nearly embarrassed himself on more than one occasion, daydreaming about what it would be like to run his hands all over Kurogane's broad shoulders, down his tapered back and over the jutting angle of his hips. If Kurogane would respond in kind, if he'd take Fai in those strong arms of his and hold him close against the planes of that chiseled chest.

And then, he'd found out.

He'd been so preoccupied with watching Kurogane - with _pretending _ that he _wasn't_ watching Kurogane, with not letting any of his friends _catch _him watching - that he hadn't noticed at first the way Kurogane watched him in turns. Hadn't known at the time that Kurogane had asked questions around the town until he'd found out his name, where Fai worked and where he'd slept.

Fai woke up in the middle of the night to hear the light clatter of rocks thrown against the window of the dormitory he slept in, a building set away from the main farm buildings which all the farmhands shared. He'd come to the window and looked down to see Kurogane outside waiting for him.

They'd wandered the fields and woods of the farm that night under the full moon, talking and holding hands. They shared a mutual interest in horses, and Fai had laughed brightly when Kurogane confessed the translation of his Teton name - Rides Tall Horses. It was certainly appropriate, as his tall legs would drag on the ground if he were forced to try to mount a pony. Fai had already had a crush on the tall stranger, but he found himself falling a little more in love with every hour. As the moon sank below the line of the hills Kurogane had caught him and kissed him, and the heat of his lips made Fai's knees go weak.

The night ran out too soon, and Fai had returned yawning and reluctant to his dormitory. But that was only the first night of many that they went walking in the moonlight. It was impossible for them to meet openly - Fai's friends already looked at him askance just for giving a friendly greeting to the stranger when they met in the street, and no one in that town would have condoned the shy moonlit kisses that Fai looked forward to trading every night.

He and Kurogane had traded stories about their childhoods, and Fai found himself telling the stranger more about his painful past than he ever had to anyone save Ashura. In turn Kurogane had told him about growing up in the Sioux village where he'd been born, and the years he'd spent roaming the Great Plains ever since. He made it sound so exciting, a grand adventure seeking the true heart of America, and together they wove childish, fantastic plans of riding off into the sunset some day.

They were only fantasies, of course; Fai hadn't truly wanted to leave the beautiful wooded hills of Wisconsin. He still loved his familiar homeland, but if he could have Kurogane with him, the other man could symbolize everything of the great wild West that filled Fai's imagination.

Their first shy kisses gave way to deeper ones, then to touching each other through their clothes, then under their clothes. Fai dreamed of what lay under Kurogane's clothes, tormented himself with the thought of what Kurogane would look like bare and leaning over him with his eyes afire with passion. But the cold damp fields where they spent their nights were no place for such a rendezvous; and so one night, Fai stole the key to the stable padlock from its place on the walls and snuck it out to Kurogane, asking the other boy to meet him there at midnight.

The barn had been vast and shadowed, lit only by a few lanterns and little splashes of waning moonlight. The dark shapes of the sleeping horses in their stall below were the only witnesses as Fai climbed up into the hayloft, heart beating in his throat as he quivered with the thought of what would come next.

And then Kurogane arrived.

They made love in the hayloft, Fai's moans and Kurogane's gasping grunts floating up to the high shadowed ceiling above. Fai had never done anything like this with a boy before, but Kurogane clearly had; and so Fai surrendered to him, giving over all his trust and freedom to the man who had seared his way into his heart. Giving up all the secrets of his body for Kurogane to claim.

Their passion blazed like a bonfire in the quiet of the barn, and afterwards Fai fell asleep with his head pillowed on the straw, Kurogane's tanned arm curled over his waist.

When he'd woken up the next morning, straw in his hair and the morning sunlight leaking through the cracks of the barn walls to sting his eyes, Kurogane was gone.

So was the key.

And so were half a dozen of Old Man Ascot's finest horses.

* * *

Fai stood in the shadowed, echoingly empty front hall of the hotel with his arms wrapped tightly around himself. He didn't like to remember the part that came after, when the dream-like life had come crashing down around him. He'd nearly been thrown into prison as an accomplice of the theft - had been arrested, in fact, and grilled endlessly by the local constables. In the end he'd been forced to tell the true story of what had gone on between himself and the other boy, and while that was eventually enough to clear him of complicity, it was also enough to destroy what friendships he had left to him.

That had been only the beginning. A tag-team of Ascot's lawyers, debt-collectors and Union City constables had come after him then, demanding money to cover the losses incurred by the theft. It hadn't taken them long to relieve him of everything he had, from his modest savings account to the few pieces of property to his name. His new-found reputation left him unable to get a job anywhere in Wisconsin, not as a stable-hand or a farmhand or even a chimneysweep. He had no family, and no friends left who could loan him the money; in desperation, he'd turned to a group of seedy underworld Italian immigrants who agreed to give him a loan. That had been the worst mistake of all, for while the constables could only threaten a penalty of prison, the promised retribution of the Chicago mob when he could not pay them was much more physical in nature. And much more permanent.

In the end he broke and ran, fleeing the gentle verdant farmlands of the settled Old Northwest to seek his fortune on the frontier with the rest of society's flotsam. He'd drifted from one town to another, taking menial jobs once he'd outrun his reputation, and finally allowing himself to settle into a semi-permanent home once he'd outrun the hitmen.

And how far had he come, how many miles and years had passed behind him, only to come face to face with Kurogane again?

Fai let out a laugh, although it echoed in the empty hotel lobby like a tomb. It was enough to make a man believe in predestination; once again Kurogane showed up, and nearly cost Fai his job. The hotel owner had not been at all happy with Fai's outburst earlier today, demanding to know why he'd run off a customer. Fai had explained only that Kurogane was not trustworthy, without going into the sordid details of how he knew.

Fai found himself strangely reluctant to tell the truth about Kurogane's thievery to anyone in this town. Even now, even after all the trouble Kurogane had left him with, Fai couldn't bring himself to expose the other man. He wasn't completely sure why not. Maybe even after a year and a half in this dusty pit, he still couldn't bring himself to think of this town or any of its people as his home, and so felt no obligation to protect them. Maybe for all he knew, Kurogane had turned over a new leaf; maybe he had reformed, and who was Fai to play judge and jury on someone else's life? Maybe he just wanted to give Kurogane enough rope to hang himself, without getting his own hands dirty by pulling the lever.

Or maybe somewhere deep inside, despite all the anger and pain and betrayal, a part of him was still under the spell of that wild half-Indian boy who'd crashed into his life that autumn evening in New York.

Fai looked up and caught his silhouette, dim and ghostly in the glass window pane. His lip curled into a sneer directed at his own reflection. "You really are pathetic, aren't you," he muttered to himself.

Movement from beyond the glass caught his eye, and Fai looked up with some surprise at the man walking towards the hotel door. It was "Doctor" Kyle Rondart, the iridologist, who made his living traveling from town to town hawking his miracle hypnotism cure. When he was in Devil's River he tended to stay at the Cat's Pyjamas - as the cheapest hotel in town - and make himself obnoxious. Fai had thought he'd moved on to another town by now, having scammed all of the easy marks here out of their money, but apparently he was back.

"Long time no see, Kyle," he said coolly as the man let himself in through the screen door. "You'll want a room for the night?"

Kyle laughed, an unpleasant sound that went along with the self-satisfied look on his face. "Not tonight, sweetheart," he said. "Tonight I'm staying at the Carlton hotel by the station. I'm just here to celebrate and spread the good word! Bring out a glass of the most expensive stuff you got."

Fai went behind the counter and pulled out a bottle of local moonshine, taking a moment to slap a new label on it. He did specify 'most expensive,' not 'best,' Fai figured, and this was as of thirty seconds ago the most expensive liquor in the house. It seemed only fair since if anyone knew the trick of selling something near-worthless at a thousand-percent mark-up, it was Kyle. "What's the occasion, Kyle?" he said as he came back over with the bottle and glass. "Today your birthday or something?"

"I've struck it rich," Kyle chortled, as he poured the first glass and took a sip. To Fai's faint disappointment, the paint-peeling qualities of the raw alcohol didn't so much as make him miss a beat; perhaps the inflated price label was enough to fool him into thinking the drink was better than it really was? "Uncle Sam's been good to me, Sweetheart. I caught an infamous criminal, and now I'm reaping the reward!"

Fai froze. No, it was stupid to jump to conclusions. This was a rough town with a lot of transients, it could be anyone... "Hard to believe we have any infamous criminals in this town," he forced out through stiff lips. "Why, Devil's River is as quiet a prairie village as you could hope to look for this side of the Mississipi, and the folks here are as sweet as pie."

Kyle sneered, and poured himself another glass. "Wastrels and guttersnipes, the lot of them," he scorned his neighbors. "But this was a bona fide big-time hustler, wanted from here to Chesapeake Bay for horse thefts. Got some mumbo-jumbo savage name, but apparently when he's going among civilized folks he goes by the name Kurogane."

_Kurogane _- no! "Horse thief, eh?" he managed to say. "How'd you spot him? Didn't try to steal anything here in town, did he?"

"Nah." Kyle shook his head. "I spotted a picture of his ugly mug in the train station when I arrived, and didn't hesitate to blow the whistle on the man when I saw him in the street. He never got the chance to run."

"I see." Fai forced a bright, false smile onto his face. "Crime doesn't pay, uh?"

Kyle gave a ghoulish cackle. "Oh it pays, all right, and its wages are a short rope and a long drop. Scum like that get what they deserve. The sherrif took him down to the courtroom around four PM, and before quitting time they'd found him guilty on all charges. Open and shut case. By five-thirty, I'm a wealthy man. One thousand dollars for information leading to his capture, easiest money I've ever made."

"Good luck for you, huh?" Fai just barely refrained from sneering, or rolling his eyes. Of course it was an open and shut case - everyone knew that the law in this town belonged to the railroad baron, Fei Wong Reed, and justice was whatever he says it was. But Kyle's next words shocked him out of his bitter thoughts.

"Bad luck for him. He's due to hang at noon tomorrow," Kyle said with bloodthirsty relish. "Word about town is that he was harassing you the first night he arrived, so I thought I'd drop by and give you the good news."

Fai clenched his teeth against a scream of denial; he swallowed it and forced it down his throat like a lump of hot lead. It was for the best, for the best, he told himself furiously. Kangaroo court or not, there was no denying that Kurogane was every bit the thief they said he was - Fai knew from bitter experience it was true. And out on the harsh, wind-swept prairie, justice was rough and had no mercy for horse thieves. Kurogane would pay exactly what he was owed, and justice would be served.

And at least his hands were clean. Right? He'd done nothing wrong.

"Things are finally breaking my way," Kyle gloated, waving his glass in the air and sloshing rotgut everywhere. "I'm a wealthy man, and a hero of the people. No one can say that I'm selfish, either. I came all this way to give you the good news, to give you my business when I'm too good for this filthy place any more. You don't have to stay here tonight either, Sweetheart. You can come with me back to the Carlton tonight, and I'll pay your way. Whaddya say?"

"I'll pass on that, Kyle," Fai said in a neutral voice, leaning forward to collect the empty glassware. "But you have a real good night."

"Come on, you know you want to," Kyle wheedled, his voice slurring. He reached out and grabbed Fai's wrist, tugging the bartender around to face him. "Look deep into my eyes, and tell me you don't wanna."

Fai suppressed a sigh. This was one of Kyle's oldest tricks, to induce a state of light suggestability on his 'patients' before he gave them a diagnosis. Somehow, his recommendations always boiled down to "give me more money." Thankfully, Fai knew the trick and was unlikely to fall for it. "Sorry, Kyle, not tonight."

The drunken smile morphed into an ugly sneer, and the grip on Fai's wrist became painful. "You don't get to pass on me so easily any more, _Sweetheart,_" he hissed. "I'm a big man in this town now. I'm gonna be important, real important. I'll have my own practice soon, and Fei Wong Reed knows my name. Lots of important people are gonna owe me favors. _You _don't want to get on my bad side."

Fai cringed inwardly as he tugged his arm against Kyle's hold, twisting his wrist so that it broke out of the grip at its weak point. "Come on, Kyle, you're drunk. Take it easy, okay?"

The last thing he wanted right now was to get into a brawl with a customer, especially after what had happened the other day with Kurogane. The owner was still sore about Fai chasing a customer out, never mind that he had been a scoundrel and a thief; lost custom was still lost custom, whether it was an outlaw or a con man. One more incident like that and Fai might lose his job.

"I said you don't get to say no to me, you -" Kyle lunged across the table, knocking the glass over as he grabbed for Fai, who backed away and kept the table between them.

The budding fight was interrupted by a jangle as the screen door opened again. Both men froze as a tall, broad-shouldered figure stepped through the doorway, his silhouette blocking the light.

The outline resolved itself into a man in a fine coat and top hat, carrying an elegantly decorated cane in one hand and a leather satchel in the other. A thin-rimmed pair of glasses perched on his nose, and as he reached up and took off his hat he revealed a long, smooth black fall of hair.

"Mr. Flowright?" he said into the sudden silence, his voice rich and cultured. "I am Clow Reed, of Reed & Sons Attorneys at Law. I'm here to discuss the dispensation of an estate with you, if you have a few moments."

Fai recognized the name, even if he didn't know the face. Like the mayor Fei Wong Reed, everyone in Devil's River knew of Clow Reed. Equally well known, but almost never spoken of, was the ongoing feud between the two brothers that sometimes threatened to tear the town in half. No one knew just what had started the bad blood between Fei Wong Reed and Clow Reed over twenty years ago, but the grudge had been maintained down the years, and marked in the town's affair by a stubborn refusal on either man's part to ever help the other. Fei Wong Reed had the courts and the constables under his exclusive control, but Clow Reed and his lawyers had blocked every attempt on the part of Fei Wong Reed to bully and extort the remaining independent landowners out of their property. It was not the sort of dispute that a poor man, lacking his own resources in an ugly legal battle, wanted to get in the middle of.

"With _him?" _Kyle snorted, his voice full of disbelief and scorn. "What business could you possibly have with a penniless guttersnipe like him?"

"There must be some kind of mistake," Fai said warily. "I don't... have any family in Devil's River. I hardly know anyone here."

Clow Reed inclined his head gravely. "Nonetheless, my client knows _you," _he said. "If your business with this gentleman is finished, could we perhaps retire to somewhere more private?"

Kyle Rondart's face darkened with frustration as he sensed his prey escaping his clutches; even with Fei Wong Reed as his patron, he wouldn't be able to do much against Fai if Clow Reed decided to block him. "Fine," he hissed, and swept out his arm knocking bottle and glass onto the floor. Fai winced as it shattered, not looking forward to cleaning up that broken glass later. "I shouldn't waste my time in this piss-hole of a place anyway, I'm out of your league. I'm taking my business somewhere that's _worth_ my money, because _you _sure as hell aren't."

With that he got up and stormed out, not even bothering to throw down money for the liquor he drank. Not that Fai was inclined to chase him down the road for it, even if Clow Reed hadn't been standing here looking at him expectantly.

"Sorry about that," he managed. "The office should be empty by now, Mr. Reed; just let me lock up out here."

He lowered the shades on the windows and doors to show that the hotel was closed for further business, and locked the front door before following the tall, clean-cut man into the office in the back. It was a small, cramped space with only one desk and chair belonging to the owner, stuffy and hot despite the one small, high window. Fai had to resist the urge to apologize for Clow Reed for the dingy surroundings. Instead, he managed to say, "What's this about? Who are you representing?"

"As you may be aware, Mr. Flowright," Clow Reed said as he set down his briefcase on the edge of the desk and snapped it open, "My firm handles the legal paperwork for all criminals in this town who can't afford private representation. As such, we were called to the jailhouse earlier this evening to register the last will and testament for a prisoner being held there, one Mr. Kurogane."

A double bolt of wild hope and fear shot down Fai's spine. Oh, no, it couldn't be happening _again... _He took a breath and in as neutral a voice as possible said, "I don't know what this has to do with me. I had nothing to do with any horse thief since he came to town yesterday. I'm afraid I can't help you with any questions you have about him."

"Asking questions is not my role in this affair, Mr. Flowright," Clow Reed said smoothly, as one gloved hand dove into the briefcase and emerged with a thick manila envelope. "I am merely here to carry out Mr. Kurogane's will. He was quite adamant that you were the person to whom the will should be delivered."

He held out the envelope, and Fai stared at it as though it were a snake. He didn't want anything to do with this, he didn't want to do _anything..._

"If you need assistance in reading over the documents, I can of course provide it," Clow Reed added, and Fai scowled and snatched the envelope out of his hands as his face heated.

"Isn't it a little unusual to read out the will and testament before the person is actually dead?" Fai said in a thick, rough voice. "Not to mention, morbid."

Clow gave him a smile that was almost a smirk. "Usually so, yes," he said. "However, my firm feels that exceptions can be made in cases where there is a certain... let's say, _inevitability _about the outcome."

Fai winced at the gruesome reminder, and turned his attention reluctantly to the envelope. The sooner he got this over with, the sooner the man would leave Fai alone.

The envelope was heavier than a sheaf of papers ought to be, and there was a hard, lumpy bulge at the end. Fai opened the top of the envelope and pulled out a thin stack of papers.

The top sheet was all legal boilerplate, long droning official phrases that felt too dry to contain all the meaning that they did. _I, Kurogane, being of sound mind and body, do hereby declare... _it went on from there. The lines blurred together in Fai's head, but he managed to clear his vision with a blink on the line where Kurogane named his beneficiary.

He looked up at Clow in shock, hardly able to believe what he was reading. "Me?" he said aloud. "This can't be right. Why me?"

Clow raised an eyebrow. "What other reason would I have for coming here, if I may ask?"

Fai shook his head uncertainly, and dropped his eyes back to the page. It was full of legalese and vague generalities, and only said that Fai is entitled to "all entailments I leave on my death." Nothing anywhere in the document specified exactly what that was meant to be.

When he turned over the will, though, he found a line drawing on the back of the sheet. It was a quick, small-scale sketch of Devil's River and the roads surrounding it. A number of structures were ticked off on the roads leading out of town, and one - a small symbol indicating an abandoned grain silo - was circled.

On a sudden impulse, Fai remembered the lumpy weight of the manila envelope. He groped for it, turned the envelope upside down and shook it. A metal key fell out and clattered on the table, and Fai's heart seized as he recognized it.

It was _the_ key. The one Kurogane took from him while he was sleeping, in the hayloft all those years ago. _He kept it? But why? Why would he do that, why would he leave this will to _me?_ I don't understand!_

The last thing that fell out of the envelope was a scrap of paper, no bigger than a postcard. It would have been easily overlooked among the other sheets of paper. Fai turned it over, and his breath caught as he recognized the handwriting on the other side.

_Fai, _the note read.

_Of all the stars that fell through my life, you were the brightest by far._

_Kurogane._

Clow cleared his throat. "I should probably mention," he said, "that although the thief has been safely apprehended, no trace of his ill-gotten gains has ever been found. Despite his best effort at questioning the prisoner, our dear sheriff has turned up no clues or leads as to where he might have stashed it. The mayor then turned to our firm for assistance in tracking down where the stolen goods might have been hidden prior to the thief entering this town."

The slow smile he gave Fai was _definitely _a smirk this time. He stood up and reached for his hat, affixing it neatly over his black hair. "Our firm has declined to take the case." He reached for his cane. "Good evening, Mr. Flowright. You should get some rest; I have a feeling tomorrow is going to be a busy day."

* * *

The sun beat down under a brassy sky, only a few wisps of high clouds breaking up the heat haze far above, as Kurogane walked through the glaring sunlight towards his execution. The sheriff walked ahead, a shapeless brown hat shielding his eyes from the sun, and two deputies walked on either side of Kurogane. His hands were tied in front of him with rope; not the most secure of arrangements, but with the pistols that rode lightly in each deputy's holster, they didn't have to be.

Half the town seemed to have turned out to watch the hanging, for which Kurogane couldn't really blame them; after all, it wasn't like there was anything else to do for entertainment in this town. At least they were fairly well behaved, for a mob; the warning scowls and gestures of the sheriff and his deputies was enough to keep them a respectful distance back, and although they jeered and booed as Kurogane was led past, none of them hurled anything worse than words.

The gallows stood on the edge of the town square, the paved plaza reflecting blinding sunlight. The wooden frame shuddered hollowly under their heavy footsteps as Kurogane mounted the steps, and he got a brief glimpse of the shadowed empty space under the platform where sunlight leaked through cracks between the board. The sight of that empty space made him feel oddly dizzy and unsteady, and his head swam as he climbed the final steps and stood looking out over the plaza and the crowd from this height.

He felt strangely detached, indifferent to the whole tableau, even though he knew that this was the last sight he would ever see. Kurogane had brushed close with death more than once over the course of his long and colorful career; days hearing the gunshots behind him as he sped for safety, or cold winter spent on the wide prairie with no shelter and only his own gun and reflexes to defend him if some predator came hunting. He knew death well enough that he wasn't afraid of it, had long since made peace with the fact that his choice of this criminal lifestyle made it unlikely that he'd live to see old age.

Which didn't mean he felt any less disgusted that his death should come on _this_ day, in _this _town, at the hands of these dirt-grubbers. Kurogane felt one corner of his lip curl upwards as he glared out disdainfully over the head of the crowd; they watched his execution like a dumbshow, a day's entertainment brought into town from the faraway semi-legendary cities their colorful buildings tried, and failed, to imitate.

Was Fai out in that crowd somewhere, watching this? Kurogane couldn't decide whether he hoped that he was, or wasn't. He didn't particularly want Fai to see his last moments, but on broader consideration, maybe he owed that to him. Maybe that was the last, the only thing he could do to make amends to him.

The sheriff stepped out in front of him, pulling a crackling set of paper sheets out of his jacket with a nervous throat-clearing. "By the authority vested in me by the office of governer of Kansas Territory, and the authority of the United States Government, you, Kurogane, have been found guilty of crimes committed in the following states. In Missouri, theft of two thousand and six hundred dollars worth of livestock; in Illinois, nine hundred dollars worth of livestock and seventy dollars of additional property damage; in Ohio, three thousand dollars worth of livestock, two counts of aggravated assault and one of murder; in Pennsylvania, sixty dollars worth of merchandise; in New York..."

As the list went on Kurogane's attention began to zone out, his interest captured instead by the movement that stirred at the edge of the square. A fancy black motorcar was creeping slowly along the road, with constables bearing red flags walking in front of the car to clear the way for it. Kurogane was somewhat surprised to see a motorcar _here, _in this tiny little town; they were only just making their debuts in Wisconsin the last he'd heard.

He'd always been a little repelled by the concept of motorcars, in a way that he wasn't even by trains. Trains roared across the landscape at inhuman speeds, cutting up the ground with their iron rails and filling the sky with their smoke, but they were fixtures of the land, stretching from one place to the next like a road. They could go further and faster than a horse could run, but they would never _replace _Kurogane's beloved horses, because they were bound to the tracks and trails on which they ran. The motorcar was another matter entirely; it left the steel rails and crept over the cobblestone streets of a city, driving man and horse out of the way before it. Blatant symbols of consumption, filth and waste. Kurogane had a wary respect for the engineers of the steam trains, but he didn't think he could ever respect a man who drove a motorcar.

He was less surprised when the motorcar crept to a stop, and a large man in a billowing black coat, top hat and monocle unfolded from the driver's seat. Fei Wong Reed was a railroad man, who owned the station and most of the land the town was built on - and, indeed, thousands of acres more of railroad track stretching east and west. He'd come to the courtroom yesterday to attend the trial, staring at Kurogane coldly from the wooden box during the entire time. He'd spoken only once, towards the end of the trial, and if there had been any doubt that the justices of this town were firmly in his pocket to begin with it was dispelled by the completion of his speech, where he'd personally vowed to 'clean this land of undesirables and subhumans' like Kurogane.

"...for a loss of property totaling eighty-five hundred dollars," The long list of thefts and misdemeanors was finally winding to an end, and the sheriff folded up the papers and stuffed them back into his dusty, sweat-soaked jacket. "For these crimes, you have been sentenced to hang by the neck until dead," he intoned in a drawling voice. He cleared his throat, and straightened up to look Kurogane straight in the eye. "Do you have anything you want to say for yourself?"

"Yeah," Kurogane said. "Does it ever bother you that you're worth less than a horse?"

The sheriff flushed brick-red and glowered at him over his bushy mustache. A chorus of jeers and some laughter broke out from the crowd, and then the sheriff stepped back. "Not what I would've chosen for last words, but suit yourself," he muttered, and lifted the hempen rope knotted into a noose. He had to stand on tiptoe to slip it over Kurogane's head, which elicited a low chuckle from him; a moment later he winced when the shorter man yanked it a little more harshly than strictly necessary.

The heavy rope prickled uncomfortably against the sides of his neck and the tops of his shoulders. Kurogane took a long, slow breath, willing his body to be calm, not to succumb to panic in his last moments. It wouldn't help anything anyway, and he had no intention of shaming his family and his ancestors in that way. Especially not in front of the likes of Fei Wong Reed.

The rope creaked; Kurogane inhaled sharply, and lifted his chin. He stared out over the false fronts of the dirty little town, into the wide unbounded prairie horizon. In the deep blue skies, he thought he could see Fai's eyes.

Kurogane was so absorbed in his own thoughts that for a moment he didn't even register the _crack_of the gunshot, coming from high up on his left. It was only a moment later, when the frayed and burst end of the hempen rope whiplashed against his cheek and left a stinging weal, that he snapped out of his daze and blinked.

Another _crack_ sounded, and this time the bullet took a divot out of the wood post inches away from the sheriff's head. The man's eyes widened comically, and he swore colorfully as he threw himself off to the side. He slammed into the metal lever as he scrambled, and the trapdoor dropped out from underneath Kurogane's feet and he was _falling._

But instead of the bone-wrenching jerk of the hempen rope, Kurogane fell _through _the platform and landed with a jolt in the dark space beneath, his legs folding under him. The impact blew the breath from his lungs, and jolted his mind back into gear.

_Sniper! _Someone was shooting from the next building over, and the crowd was just beginning to react with a shocked babble of voices as the same realization sunk in. Two more gunshots followed, sending the sheriff and deputies scrambling for cover. Anyone with good enough aim to have cut the rope on the first shot couldn't possibly have missed them on purpose, Kurogane realized; the unseen gunman, whoever they were, was deliberately driving them under cover.

And with that, Kurogane abruptly realized just who was doing the shooting.

Swearing in Teton, Kurogane worked his legs around to jam his booted foot against the ropes between his wrists and _shoved._ _Now _the adrenaline rush that he'd tried to suppress earlier hit him, leaving his heart thundering and his limbs shaking from reaction. It gave him all the strength he needed to wrench free o0f his bonds. The rope gave way with a scrape that took off most of the skin on his wrists and thumbs, but his hands were free and he scrambled to his feet as he flexed them.

Where could he run? His first instinct was to run towards the gunshots, to meet up with his protector; but then they'd both be trapped in that building. Better to split the constables' attention, if possible. The crowd hemmed in two sides of the square, buildings a third, and the ominous black motorcar and its owner blocked the way to the open streets to the north...

As if in response to his thoughts, there was a pause in the gunman's fire as he shifted his aim. Another _crack_ rang out, this one eliciting the deep _tung_of a metallic impact, followed by a high hissing sound.

And then the black motorcar exploded, erupting into a fireball that threw up a huge dustcloud and rained pieces of flaming shrapnel down all over the square. The disturbance of the crowd turned into a full-blown panic as people fled the deadly shower and rapidly expanding flames.

With a fierce grin on his face, Kurogane barged out from under the platform and sprinted directly _towards _the explosion. As he'd thought, the inexperienced deputies hesitated before following him into that inferno; the sheriff was made of sterner stuff, but the steady crack of gunfire from the unseen sniper kept him pinned down. Kurogane covered his eyes with one arm as he entered the choking, rolling cloud of dust, hurtled over the burning carcass of metal, and came out the other side.

The streets were empty; most of the townsfolk in this part of the city had come to watch the hanging, and were still trapped in the square. Eventually they'd manage to put out the fire and start a search for him, but in the meantime, Kurogane had more than enough of a head start.

He stole the sheriff's horse on his way out of town, just to keep his hand in.

* * *

Fai showed up at the grain silo only a few hours later; the sun was sinking towards the western horizon, casting long shadows across the plains. Kurogane unfolded from his concealed position behind the silo and stood, arms crossed, as Fai approached. He was riding Silver Lining, Kurogane's horse which he'd been forced to abandon back at the hotel.

He looked disheveled and dusty, gunpowder dust smudging the right side of his face and his clothes a hasty mish-mash of city clothing and riding gear. His hair was tangled under a dusty, battered fedora and he looked like a wild animal, like a whirlwind, a force of nature too beautiful and strong to tame. And here he was, coming into Kurogane's arms.

Fai reined Silver to a stop and swung his leg over the saddle, preparing to dismount. Kurogane was there to catch him as he slid towards the ground (Silver was a tall horse; she had to be, for Kurogane lived up to his namesake.) Before Fai's boots had landed on the ground, Kurogane was kissing him.

It was a long minute before they came up for air, and Kurogane gazed into Fai's face as they parted. He was grinning from ear to ear, blue eyes dancing, fine hair mussed and cheeks flushed in just the way that made him look most beautiful. "Hi," he said.

"You brought my horse," was Kurogane's response. Fai's grin only widened.

"She was too good to leave behind," Fai said. He glanced around. "I wasn't sure this was where you'd be."

"I wasn't sure you were coming either," Kurogane admitted. If another few hours had gone by without Fai showing up, Kurogane would have left alone; he couldn't afford to wait until the law caught up with him.

"What, and pass up on my inheritance?" Fai retorted. He reached into his pocket and retrieved a sheet of paper, all too familiar to Kurogane after the sleepless midnight hours he'd spent composing it under the watchful eye of the town's lawyer. Then Fai reached into his pockets, and Kurogane's heart stuttered when he pulled out a familiar key.

"I don't think it's actually yours any more, seeing as I'm not dead," Kurogane observed. Fai's eyes flashed with anger, and Kurogane held up his hands in surrender. "But far be it for me to argue with a bullseye sniper over it."

The grain silo contained all of Kurogane's belongings that he hadn't wanted to take with him into town; his rifle, a set of fine metal tools including a crowbar and a lockpicking set that most authorities didn't look too kindly on - and, of course, quite a store of cash. It was nothing like the grand total the sheriff had read out on the gallows, of course - a man had to eat, and bribes and other purchases took their toll. But there was over a thousand dollars left, more than enough for the two of them to make a start elsewhere.

They packed everything onto the two horses, and although Kurogane knew he ought to be focusing on the matter at hand, his attention kept being captured by the nymph working beside him. How had he ever deserved this? After what he'd done to Fai, he didn't think he'd ever get a chance to even properly make amends, let alone a second chance to keep the beautiful, laughing man by his side.

"Hey," Kurogane called him, and when Fai turned back to look at him, he swallowed hard. "Thanks," Kurogane murmured, his voice soft with uncertainty. He didn't specify what he was thanking Fai for, since he wasn't sure where to start. For saving his life? For defying to law for Kurogane's sake? For leaving behind everything he had built in his life - again - to follow Kurogane into the wild?

"I don't see how I could have done anything else," Fai said, looking away in discomfort. "It's not like I had all that much to lose."

"Sure you could have. You could have done nothing at all," Kurogane returned, deadpan. "It would have been easy, and then you'd have been rich."

For a moment Fai didn't reply, only leaned into Kurogane's embrace with his face calm and his eyes locked onto Kurogane's. Kurogane felt his heartbeat increase double-time, as it had when Fai was shooting out over the plaza, and he couldn't have moved if his life had depended on it.

Slowly Fai's eyes slipped shut, and his arms came up to wrap around Kurogane's neck as he kissed him again, a slow dance of lips and tongues as he molded his body against Kurogane's. Kurogane shuddered as something in him broke and he surrendered, falling into Fai's embrace as he wrapped his arms around Fai's back in turn. The length of Fai's body pressed eagerly against his, slim and fiery hot and leaving a sparkling tingle everywhere their skin touched.

It was a long time before Fai pulled back from that kiss, sucking Kurogane's lower lip between his before he released him. "I would rather be poor and with you than rich and alone," he murmured softly.

Kurogane took a deep breath as his hands slid up Fai's back, caressing his shoulders before moving down his arms to grip his hands.

"Not that we have to be either," Fai added as an afterthought, and he broke his left hand free of Kurogane's grasp to reach behind him and pull a thick leather wallet from his back pocket. He bounced it lightly in his hand. "I took the liberty of intercepting Kyle Rondart on the way to his hotel last night, and relieving him of the bounty money he'd collected for your capture. One thousand dollars, wasn't it?"

Kurogane shook his head. "You're incredible," he said, voice soft. A sudden impulse - sparked perhaps by the memory of that summer-blue sky, the last thing he thought he would ever see - made him add, "I love you."

Fai looked at him and his eyes went soft, glowing violet in the afternoon light. "Me too," he said in a small voice.

After a long moment, Fai looked away and cleared his throat. "Well," he said, "guess we should hit the road."

Fai took hold of Silver's pommel, and with a bit of scrambling climbed into her saddle. "Hey!" Kurogane objected. "That's my horse."

"Not any more," Fai said with a wicked smile. "I stole her."

Kurogane couldn't really argue with that, so he finished securing the last of his gear on the black horse and swung aboard. "So. Where next?"

Fai turned west, squinting into the western sun as he adjusted his fedora. "Well, I hear Colorado territory is nice this time of year," he said. "We could try that. I always wanted to see California someday."

"They might have sent word ahead," Kurogane warned him. "It's getting harder than I thought to avoid the wanted posters."

"All for the better," Fai said smugly. "No wanted posters out on me. If someone catches you, I'll bust you out, and we'll take the reward money when we leave."

"Huh," Kurogane grunted, then gave a thoughtful hum. "Never thought of cashing in on my own bounty before."

Fai grinned at him, a spark in his eye. "That just means you're not being the best outlaw that you can be," he challenged.

"I can improve," Kurogane asserted, and Fai laughed. The sound was like silver in the dusty air.

"I just bet you can," Fai said, and nudged Silver clover to Kurogane's horse. He leaned over precariously far, barely clinging to the saddle with his knees, and tilted his head towards Kurogane's. "Kiss me?"

Kurogane did, despite how precariously it made him tilt out of his own saddle. It was a distinctly unsatisfactory kiss, from the back of two horses walking at different paces. But it was a promise for more.

Side by side, they rode into the westering sun.

~end.


End file.
